Beautiful
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: Everybody thought he was void of the ability to love until he met Violet Harmon,but they didn't know him.


** "Beautiful"**

**Summary: People think he was void of love until he met Violet Harmon, they were seriously mistaken. This was just a different kind of love.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story. **

**A/N: Just a little thought about Tate and Addy's talk before his sessions.**

A hint of autumn lingered in the air, Tate enjoyed it because it was the closest he got to seasons. To the change of the leaves, or the fall of snow like he had seen when he was very little and visited his father's parents on the east coast. A memory of his childhood that he actually liked, not this knock off weather so similar to the fake Prada bags that the girl's at his school had carried.

He sat on the front steps of "murder house" and waited for Dr. Harmon to end the current session and start Tate's. He enjoyed the silence, something about being near this house made him calm; it was probably the youngest (living) resident's presence. Something about her made him want to be a better person, or at least want to try. _Repent._

Tate is toying with the hem of his frayed brown sweater, a nervous habit he has had since whenever he can remember. He was waiting for Dr. Harmon and himself to go to their determined meeting spot, no longer allowed to be treated there. A shuffle of heavy footsteps trail up the walkway, it's too early and too clumsy to be Violet. The footsteps are familiar though, the sound of his childhood walking towards him.

He looks up slowly, brushing his bangs out of his face. "Addy, you shouldn't be here," sighs Tate.

His oldest sister, ignores him and ventures closer to the house, she wears a smile and a bright pink floral dress. Addy's clothing was clearly mother's doing, like a fucking cupcake. Memories of his own childhood garb filled his mind, khaki pants, crisp button up shirts, penny loafers. Luckily for him, he could break the trend; rebel.

Addy shrugs, and moves closer to the house, she never one for authority; just like her brother he supposed. "I wanted to see you," she says, bluntly.

"Me?" he chuckles, "why?"

Addy finally gets to the steps of the house; she plops down next to him. "I don't know, you're one of them now," she says, "one of my friends."

Tate smiles, softly, "I am your brother," he says, pointedly.

Addy grins, "I know, but now you're a friend too," she chuckles.

In Addy's world _ghost _meant _friend,_ Tate sometimes wondered if she knew. Probably not, if she knew how he left, she would be scared. Tate never wanted Addy to be scared, as fucked as he was he cared about her. She was his sister and he loved her, so he decided a subject change was due; even in death he felt the need to protect her.

Tate exhales air. "So, it's Halloween," he points out, awkwardly.

Addy nods, "Yeah, why are you still here?" she asks.

Tate shrugs, "I have a session," he explains, "but don't worry, I am going out later."

Addy wiggles her eyebrows, a familiar giggle slips from her lips. "With _Violet?"_ she croons.

Tate rolls his eyes, "Yes with Violet," he confirms.

She bounces up and down. "You _like _her," Addy teases, "you think she is a pretty girl."

Tate shakes her head; no he didn't think she is pretty. "No," he corrects, "she's fucking breathtaking."

Addy gnawed on her lip, looking down at her hands as if she was afraid to speak. "What makes her a pretty girl?" she mumbles, "I want her to help me."

Tate ignores the second half, thinking of this completely loaded question. "She's beautiful but that's obvious, it goes more than skin deep," he sighs, probably sound like a pathetic lovesick puppy. "It's the way she carries herself, she's fierce and protective but she still cares about people nonetheless; she has a way of making you feel important," he breathes.

"Oh," is all Addy can say.

Tate's finally processes the second half of Addy's question, "Wait, why did you want her help?" he asks, confused.

Addy swallows, "I want to be a pretty girl for Halloween," she admits, "Violet is a pretty girl, and Mom just wants me to be Snoopy."

Tate can feel rage in his body, his eyes feel like they could shoot fire and his body is tense. But he refrains, Addy didn't do anything wrong but his mother again; Constance had a way of making every feel inadequate, he obviously hadn't dealt with it well. He thought the cocksucker would have learned her lesson.

"I think you should be Snoopy," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because you are supposed to be something you aren't for Halloween."


End file.
